His Girl Friday
by cherry valence
Summary: It was stagnant where they stood now, and uncomfortable, and that was the worst. A tag to 2.06, and sort of an interlude update between now and next week. A series of Olicity office stories.
1. Office Politics

His Girl Friday

_Office Politics _

_. . . _

Summary: She never expected to jump when called for. A series of Olicity office stories.

Note: So, that Arrow writers found it fit to give me an excuse to start a whole new series of Olicity stories. Felicity as the assistant to Oliver's CEO filled me with so many Olicity feels and just in time. This new change up is just ripe with goodness of the olicity variety. Chapter 2 up by the end of the week, I hope. Considering this is a new-new idea I don;t have anything outlined, but my head is swarming with ideas...and I have two full days free of work and school coming up.

. . .

"Yes, Mr. Queen." Felicity gritted her teeth as she pushed her way through the double glass doors, folding her hands in front of her as she waited for Mr. Queen.

"Yes, you." Isabel pointed at her, gesturing for her to come.

Felicity felt a slow simmer of anger start in her stomach and start to rise toward her face in a pink flush. She graduated magna cum laude from MIT, she wrote one of the best security platforms in the private sector, and she'd successfully hacked into every last domestic government agency.

"Get me a double soy latte—hot, no foam." Isabel turned back to the file she was reading.

Felicity narrowed her eyes, grilling Oliver silently. This was exactly what she told him she was not going to be.

"Won't you be having anything, Oliver?" Isabel asked.

"Oh, I'm already up to my shoulders in hot water." Oliver said with a slight shake of his head, and an apologetic look towards Felicity.

"Oh Mr. Queen, are you quite sure?" Felicity asked, "Don't hesitate to come to me for anything you may need. It is my pleasure to service you."

For a stark, painful moment Felicity was town between bubbling infuriation at waiting on the pinched face brunette, and flaring embarrassment at not only dropping the sexual innuendo, but doing it in front of her.

"I'm fine, thank you." Oliver said, glancing her way with a slight smile while he adjusted the blue tie at his neck. "Perhaps later?"

"That's all then." Isabel said, raising her hand. "You can go, Felicia."

Felicity opened her mouth to correct her, but bit down hard on her lip to stop from doing something that would really, genuinely make Oliver regret having made her his assistant.

Oliver cleared his throat at his desk.

"Felicity," he said quietly to Isabel. "Thank you, Felicity."

"Whatever." Isabel said in a low murmur, "I don't care. Much in the same way I don't care for your methods, or arrogance, Oliver."

Felicity turned on her heel, hoping that Oliver heard her frustration in every last click. She missed her office, she missed her computers, and she missed not being treated like a dog running at the whistle.

"So, she's a full service assistant."

Felicity overheard Isabel remark to Oliver as she walked away.

"It's good to know where all that money we aren't making is going to."

_Let's see what you think about all that money when I hack into your personal banking account and siphon the funds into a Hood the Hero campaign, and make it look like it went to the Bolden Brassieres strip club._

Felicity strode down the hall, still feeling the anger blaze. This was the one aspect she had hated most about her job, the bosses who felt that she was below them, even when she was repairing their computers, or setting up their security systems.

_I miss my computer_. It had been much better company, and it never dropped snide comments.

Felicity walked into the café, and all the chatter in the room slowed to a quiet mumble before dead silence. It was also nice to feel like a leper to her co-workers. She sighed, looking around the room as everyone stared at her. If she got this kind of reaction for merely being Oliver Queen's assistant, she couldn't imagine what it would be like to be his girlfriend.

Different problem for a different day.

Holding her head high, she walked across the floor ignoring the hum of gossip from the other bodies in the room. She would be angry and embarrassed about a lot of things in life, but the one thing she held no shame about was Oliver. God knew, sometimes he made her want to strangle him, but she was tired of this pariah business.

Did none of them realize, or care to consider that the same man they whispered about and degraded had saved every last one of their jobs?

"Hi." Felicity stopped at the counter, with a smile at the barista. "I'm—"

"Mr. Queen's secretary." The tall blonde boy nodded his head once. "What do you need?"

"I'm not—" Felicity's shoulders fell as she sighed. "Yeah, whatever…I need a…"

For a moment, her mind blanked. She considered messing up the order, or maybe encouraging young Adam to spit in the cup if he could be so kind…but no.

"A what?" he asked. "You okay, lady?"

"A double soy latte, no foam." Felicity said, "And I'll get back to you on that."

"Mr. Queen a hard guy to work for?" he asked as he worked on the drink. "You know secretaries drink for free, right? Fringe benefit."

"He's not what people think he is." Felicity said, waiting for the drink.

She took the cup, walking out of the café without elaborating.

This was all getting pretty old. If she wasn't fighting against the indignity of fetching coffee, and supplying bagels, she was fighting against these attitudes that she was the go-to girl for a demon.

She realized that between breaking Oliver's espresso machine, and filling her days with more opportunity than ever for Freudian slips, she had a new mission when she wasn't fetching coffee for Isabel.

If it was the last thing that she did, she was going to change people's opinions. It was bad enough that the police, the world was trying to turn the Hood into a scourge, but she wasn't going to let some suave, smarmy Politian and a smear-mongering media turn Oliver into a monster.

She pushed open the door into Oliver's office, and Isabel turned to look at her.

"Excuse me. This is a private meeting. You need to knock."

That is, if she wasn't arrested and thrown in prison for killing this woman.

"My apologies." Felicity said through gritted teeth. "Your coffee, Ms. Rochev?"

"Did you go all the way to Columbia?" Isabel asked, "Because it certainly took long enough."

Felicity was tempted to remind her that it was a good thing she didn't delay the wait any longer by knocking on the door.

"Isabel, please enjoy the coffee." Oliver said, standing up and smoothing out his jacket against his chest. "Please excuse me for just a minute."

"Oh, well it will be my pleasure to wait on you." Isabel replied dryly. "Take your time, after all this isn't costing the company anything."

Felicity walked out of the room, feeling Oliver's steady pace behind her.

Once they were out of sight of Isabel, she turned on her heel and pointed her finger at him angrily.

"So help me, Oliver, if you fake fire me—"

Oliver held a finger to his lips, silencing her. She was about to tell him she didn't like being shushed when he opened his mouth.

"I'm sorry." He said, resting his hand on the middle of her back as they hid out of Isabel's sight. "She's insufferable, and incredibly rude. You don't deserve to be treated like that, and I never would."

"You're a better person." Felicity said, struggling again to stay mad at him. "I'm still mad at you. Do you understand what an incredible waste this is, Oliver?"

"I know." He smiled down at her slightly, "You're making a huge sacrifice for me, Felicity. It means the world."

Damn him, she thought.

Oliver slipped her a file.

"These are her newest acquisitions. Find out anything you can, please."

"Okay." Felicity smiled, "You say please. You always say please."

"And you never let me down." Oliver's hand lingered on her back for a moment longer than necessary. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Crash and burn." Felicity told him with a small laugh. "Now, you can stop buttering me up. Get back in there."

"Felicity," Oliver cocked his head, a grin on his face as he looked her over. "I love spending my days with you."

"Not nearly as much as I enjoy…" Felicity lifted up the file, covering her face and cringing. "Please go."

Oliver laughed, "See you tonight."

_Oliver_, Felicity internalized a sigh as she turned and looked out into a hallway. So, maybe there were parts about the job that could make her blood boil, but she wouldn't trade being his girl Friday for anything in the world.


	2. Double Booked

His Girl Friday

_Double Booked _

. . .

Summary: Felicity is still getting the hang of this scheduling business.

Note: Kerflummoxed! Thanks for all the love guys, I'm still working on getting back to replying back to everyone, but with three stories in the works, and school and work…it's a slow process. I love you all, thanks for all the feedback, it really means the world!

. . .

"We have a problem," Felicity said, slipped through the glass doors into Oliver's office and garnering his attention from the screen he was just looking at.

_Why did he have to torture himself, really?_ Felicity would like to just disconnect him from the internet, it was doing him no good to watch on loop as every news station talked about what a self-absorbed, elitist, jerk he was.

_I could do that…actually_, Felicity thought, considering it for a moment. _Loop it with something else…_

She shook away the thought, and returned to Oliver. He wouldn't like that.

_Then again, it wouldn't be the first time you did something he didn't like._

"Don't we always?" He asked, tilting his head to her as he closed the screen.

"Well," Felicity held her hand up to stop him, conceding that unfortunately he was right. "What I mean to say, is that _you_ have a problem because _you_ hired an IT professional to be your secretary, and now _you_ have two people waiting on an appointment with you."

Oliver raised an eyebrow, looking marginally amused, as he came out from behind his desk and viewed the outer office and his afternoon appointments.

"I'm not sure what part you're worse at," Oliver said stifling a chuckle as he peered over Felicity's blonde head into the office where both Thea and Ted Kord were waiting on him. "Scheduling or apologizing."

He leaned his head toward her, eyes sparkling with laughter. As humorous as Oliver found the whole problem to be, as _amusing_ as he found every last failure of hers in this office, whether it be her inability to fax, or the three times she'd dropped his calls while trying to put them on hold, or any other numbers of ridiculous mix-ups she'd made—not to mention flubbing the name of the CFO and probably offending him.

_I miss Mr. Steele_. She thought with a silent sigh, at least I never butchered his name. _Nope, insinuated sexual tension and weirdness, but never the name._

"That's because I'm _not_." Felicity told him bluntly, with a glimmer of frustration—was it just her or did Oliver come back from the island this time with the express desire of trying to drive her crazy? "_You_ hired your go-to girl to be your go-fer girl, and not that I didn't warn you, but things are falling through the cracks. I can't do this. I'm not...very good at it."

"That's ridiculous." Oliver patted his hand on her shoulder, "If I can run my father's company, you-couldn't you just design some computer program to do this?"

"I did." Felicity shot back at him, feeling a little bit frustrated with that as well. "And it does require a certain percentage of human input. I'm sure it would be incredibly useful _for a secretary._"

"It's fine. A little bit of patience will do Thea well." Oliver buttoned his jacket, and followed her. "How do I look? I'd like Ted to think of me as an adult, as opposed to the kid who once broke into his lab to steal drugs."

"Well, your adolescence never ceases to frighten me." Felicity said, turning around and giving him the once over. How she'd love to have an ounce of criticism-constructive or otherwise.

She bit down on her lip, not thinking about how devastatingly handsome he looked in his dark suit and royal blue tie, brushing her hand over his shoulders.

"You look great Oliver." Carefully, she straightened his tie. "Don't worry about who he thinks you were, show him who you are."

"Right," Oliver said, with a sigh. "Remind me again who that is? The self-indulgent billionaire running his father's business into the ground?"

"_Handsome_." Felicity smiled up at him. And the brilliant CEO of Queen Consolidated."

A smile crossed Oliver's face.

"Oh, and not that it's a big deal or anything," Felicity said, stopping him before the door, "But Oliver, stop discounting yourself. You're not the CEO's son—I mean, you know, you are…"

Felicity frowned, realizing she'd lost her point in the babble.

"_You're_ the company," Felicity told him. "You saved us from Isabelle, you're the one who protected 320 jobs from being cut, and you, Oliver are the one who is going to put the name Queen back on top."

_And no, it wasn't a sexual thing at all. It didn't even sound weird. Please._

"Felicity." Oliver shook his head with a grin, "See, I told you—you're exactly what I need."

_Uhh…_ Felicity wasn't sure how she did that. Frankly, she thought he could do better than an assistant who was all nervous babble and sweaty palms, particularly when he was looking all Gatsby in his suit and tie.

Oliver walked past her, and pushed open the door waiting for her to go ahead.

"Mr. Queen is ready for you." Felicity said, standing outside the door.

"Mr. Kord, sorry for the mix up, my fault entirely. I hope you weren't waiting long."

"Not at all, Oliver." Ted clapped him on the shoulder. "We've known each other since you were in diapers, son. I think Ted will suffice about now. It gave me the time to catch up with your sister. Troublemaker that one, isn't she?"

Oliver laughed, "You can't imagine."

"Nice seeing you again Mr. Kord," Thea called after him. "Good luck with your bug."

"Bug?" Oliver's eyebrows furrowed together. "What's that about?"

"Oh, well nothing yet. Just an idea I'm puttering around with." Ted waved off the question, "Just one more crazy idea from 'ol Teddy."

"I wouldn't say that." Oliver said with a laugh. "Your crazy ideas, usualy signal some sort of scientific breakthrough."

He directed Ted into his office.

"Please," Oliver offered him the chair across from his desk. "You're far from the mad scientist you pretend to be. Everyone else is still racing to try and compete with that ingenious sunlight suit you created for the military."

"Don't flatter me, Oliver. We both know that that awful suit has its problems, I just hope to god they don't start testing people in it yet. I asked for more time, but you know how it is."

"Of course," Oliver nodded his head, "It's unfortunate."

"A damn shame." Ted agreed, "A lot like the way your R & D team has defected in droves."

Oliver couldn't disagree. His applied sciences division had all but disappeared, it as in rough shape, and he didn't begin to know how to repair it. He as hoping however, that Ted might be able to help him out.

. . .

Felicity felt caught in a wave of awkward as she and Thea made eye contact with one another, and neither seemed to come up with something to say.

The leaned back in her chair, resting her head against the glass of Oliver's office, and looked bored.

"Sorry about the mix-up, Miss. Queen," Felicity said, wondering if she'd provoked the girl.

"Shh!" Thea hissed, waving her hand to quiet Felicity down as she gestured inside Oliver's office, her face crinkling with a newfound effort of trying to listen into the conversation with her brother and Kord. "I'm trying to hear."

_Oh, well, that was great_. Felicity thought. She wondered if Oliver was aware that his sister was so incredible preternaturally nosy. It couldn't possibly bode well for him.

Thea groaned, throwing her hands down in her lap.

"I can't hear anything! Isn't there a window, or something?"

"No such luck." Felicity said, walking around the desk and sliding into her chair.

From here, it was easy to pretend she hadn't asked the same question.

"Well, do you have a glass or something?" Thea asked.

Felicity looked up at her with a raised eyebrow, maybe nosy didn't cover it.

"That really works?"

"Like a charm." Thea said with a grin, "You can't imagine how much dirt I compiled on Ollie over the years with it. I'm pretty sure he's still clueless."

"I can imagine."

With an exasperated groan, Thea gave up, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV on the wall.

For one disturbing moment, Felicity pictured a young Thea tuning in for a romp in the bed between Oliver and Laurel and pushed the thought away as quickly as it had come along. That was the last thought she wanted in her head.

Besides…

_Speak of the devil._

Felicity half-listened as the anchor on the twelve o'clock news was talking to Laurel's new boss, Adam Donner who generally was doing the same as he always was—by which she meant, generally trashing the Hood, and specifically accusing him of domestic terrorism and speaking about how he will just relish the day he gets to prosecute him to the full extent of the law.

"Jackass." Felicity mumbled under her breath, surprised when at the same time Thea voiced the same opinion, causing them to exchange a look.

_Well, that's a little awkward_, Felicity thought.

"I never would have thought that one of my brother's people would agree." Thea said, looking her over with a little glimmer of interest. "Ollie thinks the Hood is dangerous."

"Hm." Felicity made a little sound in her throat. "Well, I'm not saying that I'd be in a rush to go for dinner and drinks with the archer, but I think dangerous is taking it a little far."

"Ha…" Thea pointed her finger at her and laughed. "You've got it, you know. I see why Ollie likes you."

"Excuse me?" Felicity said, "Got what?"

_A job that I'm incredibly overqualified for, and yet totally incapable of doing?_

"Nothing." Thea chuckled, "You know my brother's ex-girlfriend is leading the charge against the Hood?"

Felicity nodded her head, stifling the urge to roll her eyes.

She used to find Laurel's resilient ethics admirable, even if she didn't like anything else about her. Felicity had been incredibly jealous of the way Oliver kept her on a pedestal, but it seemed to be waning. She couldn't come up with a single thing to like about Laurel herself, aside from the fact she didn't seem to share the opinion of Oliver that most of the city did.

"So, _they're_ freaking crazy, huh?" Thea gestured at the D.A. "If you asked my boyfriend, he'd say they're the one who should be in jail."

"I don't think it does any good for them to be working against him, and I'm not crazy about my tax dollars going to catching the guy who seems to be the only one doing anything in this city."

"Wow," Thea laughed, "Does my brother _know_ you?"

"Oli—" Felicity swore silently, wanting to kick herself. "Mr. Queen isn't all omniscient."

"Don't worry." Thea told her, leaning forward in her chair conspiratorially. "I mean, it's not like I don't know."

"Know _what_?" Felicity asked uneasily, hoping Thea wasn't thinking what she thought she was thinking.

"Ms. Smoak," Oliver walked out of the office with Ted, calling her name with a slight note of amusement in his tone.

God, she hoped he hadn't been standing there long.

Oliver gave her a nod, and a once over that made Felicity feel a little naked. Like she didn't have enough problems with one Queen, she really didn't need to juggle the pair.

"Yes, Mr. Queen." Felicity said, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. This was getting ridiculous.

"I just need you for a moment in my office." Oliver said, before glancing back to Ted. "I'm glad we could meet like this Ted, you gave me a lot to think about."

"Well, just a parting thought then," Ted said, "It's an open ended offer Oliver…and you know if all assistants came that pretty I'd replace Enid."

Though it went against all of her feminist principles, Felicity was tickled by the flattery. It was a long week, and what the heck, it felt good.

"If you're ever looking to make a trade…" Ted chuckled.

Felicity watched with a little smile as Oliver shook his head once, slowly.

"You could persuade me of a lot of things, Ted. But Felicity is irreplaceable."

_Oliver_…Felicity felt a little tingle in her stomach at his words. She ducked her head as he turned her way with a smile. Moments like this was why it was impossible to stay mad at him.

"You drive a hard bargain, son. You've got the same draw that Robert had."

"Thank you Ted," Oliver said, with a chuckle. "But it's still no deal."

Ted chuckled, "I know, I know."

They shook hands, and Ted left the office.

"You…" Oliver pointed to his sister, "Lunch—why? Should I be worried?"

"Ollie!" Thea exclaimed, "I'm offended. Can't a girl just want to have a nice lunch with her big brother. I miss seeing you, you're working all the time—more to the point, _I'm_ working all the time too…"

"Uh huh." Oliver said, "So you've detached yourself from your boyfriend so you can see me?"

"He's taking care of a delivery at the club, he's very handy." Thea glanced her brother over, "You might want to think of getting a little exercise yourself, all this sitting at the desk is going to make you flabby."

With a laugh, Thea poked Oliver in the stomach, before retracting her hand quickly as her finger bent.

"Ow…" she said, rubbing her finger, "You know…in time. It'll catch up with you."

Felicity had a feeling that the pulling and the jumping and all the twisty-bendy stuff that Oliver did—god, were glass doors ever a blessing in disguise?—he'd probably be okay in that department. _Felicity, focus! Stop thinking about sweaty Oliver, with the overly defined muscles, and the pearls of sweat that bead right below his belly button—_

"Thank you for that." Oliver told her, rolling his eyes.

"Should I call Mr. Diggle to bring the car around?" Felicity asked.

Really, he might be the black driver, but at least he had the pleasure of only working for Oliver. She had the delight of answering to half of the corporate staff.

"He has today off." Oliver replied, sighing as he looked his sister over, a gleam of excitement in her eyes.

He reached into his pocket and tossed Thea his keys.

"You're always a delight. Pull the car around—_carefully_!—and we'll get a bite at La Tuttarosca's if you treat my car with a gentle hand."

Felicity could barely stifle a laugh as she watched them. It wasn't everyone who could accuse Oliver of getting fat, and get a Mercedes out of it in one fell swoop.

"Awesome." Thea said, pocketing the keys. "Nice talking to you Felicity. See you soon."

After Thea left the office, Felicity cocked her head to the side and watched Oliver expectantly.

"Well?" she asked, "You're not going to make me stand here all afternoon and guess, are you?"

Oliver laughed, gesturing toward his office.

. . .

"Did it go well with Kord?" Felicity asked, "It looked like it went well—also, do you know that your sister is incredibly nosy? Like, listen into the meeting nosy?"

"Well," A slow grin passed over Oliver's face, "I might not be all omniscient, Felicity, but yes. You thinkn I was clueless that she spent half of her childhood with her ear pressed against my door?"

An embarrassed flush filled Felicity's cheeks.

"I guess she's not the only one. You're in a meeting, why are you listening into my conversation?"

"It was interesting." Oliver said, "But speaking of Kord…"

Oliver leaned against the desk, and looked over to Felicity with a sigh.

"He offered to subcontract with Queen Consolidated—on one condition."

"Uh oh." Felicity said, "This doesn't sound good."

"He thinks we could put together a great team to create a new protective suit. Ted's really unhappy with the prototype that the military has, and he wants to start the project over, do it right."

"I don't feel like you've gotten to the bad part yet." Felicity told him.

"I said that the first project that R&D took on under my control would be something…undeniable right for the city." Oliver said.

"Something the total opposite of…yeah." Felicity gestured, "I get where you're going with that."

"This isn't just any suit of clothes." Oliver said, "What Ted wants to accomplish with it, it could be used as a weapon."

"Oliver, I've seen you wield a pen as a weapon." Felicity said, "Do I need to further embellish? You're asking the wrong question—you need to ask yourself if it's a project you believe in. Do you think its going to make the world a better place? Do you think it will do more good than harm in the world?"

For a moment, Oliver just stood there, and then shook his head.

"Felicity," he sighed, "I think that you should be the one sitting behind the desk."

"My last name isn't Queen." Felicity said, feeling a little wave of awkward at the statement and cringing. "You know what I mean, and Oliver, it's not that you don't belong there—it's that you spend too much time second guessing yourself. You can't do that. Under the hood, you'd never do that, would you?"

"Sometimes it's easier out there." Oliver said, "Besides, people's expectations of me are so low I don't think I can disappoint anyone under the hood."

"Wrong." Felicity told him, "Just have half the faith in yourself that I do, and things are going to pan out right Oliver. You belong at the helm, under the hood or in the suit, you're a leader."

"And yet," Oliver's eyes twinkled with a laugh, "I'm still not date material, am I?"

Felicity had turned right before he said that, and nearly stumbled in shock and confusion. She banged her hand on the corner of the desk as she caught herself.

"Well, you said it yourself." Oliver told her, "You wouldn't exactly go for dinner and drinks with the archer."

"I'm having soundproof glass installed." Felicity told him pointedly.

"That didn't answer the question." Oliver called after her, "What would make me date material?"

Felicity shrugged, turning on her heel to leave the office.

"I guess you'd have to ask a girl on a date to answer that." She said, pushing open the doors and glancing back at Oliver with a smile.

A chill passed through her spine as she walked out of the office, feeling the warm feeling pass through her chest. Maybe it was just a pipe dream, but she was looking forward to one day actually hearing that question.


	3. Sunk

His Girl Friday

_Sunk_

. . .

Summary: Felicity has had it up to here with Isabel.

Note: I am so sorry this update took so long, guys! I've been ridiculously sick, my cold turned into a case of the flu…and I'm only just crawling out of my hole to get down to business. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I'm sorry I didn't get around to individually thanking you all, but it's been a crazy week. I appreciate every last review, favorite, and alert. On an unrelated note, would many of you be interested in any holiday themed Arrow stories? Just curious. Thanksgiving, Chrismukkah, maybe I can even squeeze in a Halloween one…

. . .

"Felicia!" Isabel called her, holding a pair of garment bags in her hand. "Felicia... "

Isabel snapped her fingers to try and garner her attention, her heels clipping against the floor as she strode away from Oliver's office to address her.

Purposefully, Felicity continued to ignore the woman. She refused to believe that Isabel did not know her name, and she _might_ be a personal assistant but she sure as hell wasn't hers.

And _no way_ did this lady snap her fingers at her. She was not a dog to jump when called for.

Oliver had better get back soon-hopefully before something tragic happened that would really demonstrate the meaning of hostile to Ms. Isabel Rochev.

"Excuse me." Isabel stepped in front of the desk and looked down at her. "I'm speaking to you."

"Oh wow," Felicity said, playing stupid poorly. "I never realized."

_And you can bet my heart is just breaking for you._

Felicity gathered up the files straightening them loudly against the desk, feeling a twitch of anger at the woman.

"Probably because my name isn't Felicia, and I don't respond to having fingers snapped in my face." Felicity jumped up from her desk, and stormed past Isabel.

"Well beg pardon," Isabel said, glancing down at the name plate on the desk.

_Fine_. Felicity conceded that perhaps they'd gotten off on the wrong foot. "It's forgotten. However, you might want to notice that the door on this office says Oliver Queen, not Isabel Rochev—I work for _Oliver_."

"Oh," Isabel shook her head, her mouth forming an 'O' that seemed apologetic until without a warning she tossed the garment bags at Felicity.

Not that hand-eye coordination was her strong suit, but this threw her into a fit of gracelessness as she fumbled the folders, and the garment bags and everything scattered across the floor. This really didn't just happen.

_This was not real life, more to the point, this was not—could not be her life._

Isabel sighed tiredly, "Not nearly. And you made a mess, you clumsy girl. For the record, you are in the employ of Queen Industries which entails far more than your spoiled billionaire faceplate."

"Or so you hope." Felicity retorted, biting down on a much fiery retort.

_Oliver expects more of you. Do not sink to this witch's level._

"Well," Isabel watched with an exasperated look as Felicity bit down on her lip, grabbing up the two garment bags with frustration and tossing them across her desk.

Isabel's eyes narrowed, clearly unhappy with that sort of defiance.

Felicity bet she was, it had to be difficult for her—not having everyone cower in her wake.

"You can fetch me a vanilla latte first." Isabel informed her, "Then return and deliver these garments to the cleaner, while I deal with Mr. Queen. It's very important you watch them, they used far too much starch. Make sure they do not do it again. You will wait until they've finished and inspect them."

Isabel turned on her heel, apparently deciding the instructions were sufficient as Felicity snatched up papers from the ground, hit with a wave of frustration as she saw some of them had flown beneath the desk.

"One more thing," Isabel said, "Be sure it is with _four_ shots of espresso and just _one_ pump of vanilla. It was far too sweet. Don't mess that up, or you'll just have to go back and get a new one."

_YOU GRADUATED SUMMA CUM LAUDE FROM MIT, FELICITY MEGAN SMOAK, WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? Worse, what would your parents say? They saved all their lives to put you through great schools, and one of the highest rated universities in the nation, and you are fetching coffee for this woman? _

Felicity steeled herself against the rage that built up as she crawled under the desk to get the papers. She'd never felt so demeaned in her life, and one summer while she was in college she'd worked at a Walmart.

_Come on Felicity. You can deal with this, you will not let this...goat get the better of you. She is trying to break you down. It is not about her. You're in this job for Oliver. _

Felicity reached for a folder that had gone amiss.

_Though, it would be easier if he hadn't left you alone with the devil. _

"Come on now," Isabel said, "That can wait. You need to learn to prioritize when you're working here. Those later, go get my coffee first."

Counting down from three and composing herself, Felicity crawled out from under the desk. She steeled herself against the woman, and looked her over.

"Anything else?"

"You might get by with this shoddy work while Oliver is in charge." Isabel said, "But don't count on those extracurricular benefits being enough to keep you in this office if you can't do the job."

"Excuse me." Felicity knew this hadn't been the first time someone insinuated she'd fallen into this position by nefarious means, but…

"You have no place!" Felicity told her, "Even if I was engaging in some sort of…dalliance with Mr. Queen…"

_Don't you dare stop now._

"It would not be any of your business! You might be a member of the board, but he still owns the controlling interest in this company, and I'm not going to be subjected to your abuse, because I do not work for you."

That might have worked on the timid girl who used to do her work hiding behind her computer, but she'd grown up a lot over the last year. She didn't scare so easy anymore.

Felicity glanced down at the papers on the floor, and the garment bags on the desk, and back to Isabel.

"I am not afraid of you."

"How dare you," Isabel said, "You have thirty seconds to apologize for this sort of impertinence. I'm your superior, and I've earned a level of respect from the secretarial staff."

"How about this…" Felicity said, realizing she'd gone too far—way, too far.

Oliver was going to kill her.

Felicity bit down on her lip, as she turned and saw Digg standing in the doorway. She hoped he hadn't been there for long.

"Miss. Smoak." Isabel said through tight lips, "You can apologize profusely, or seek employment elsewhere."

Felicity felt so angry, so utterly enraged after being demeaned so completely and totally she couldn't muster up the words for Isabel, or look Diggle in the eye—because a small part of her recognized that by losing her temper, snapping at this woman, she hadn't been the better woman that Oliver convinced her she was.

"Get to it Ms. Smoak." Isabel said, "I don't have all day."

Then again, Oliver had been wrong before.

"Congratulations." Felicity walked away from Isabel, stopping near Diggle and unable to look him in the eye, "You don't like being the black driver? Try being the female assistant…"

Felicity turned on his heel, looking from Diggle to the stunned face of Isabel Rochev.

"I quit."

"Don't you dare walk out that door!" Isabel called after her from the door to Oliver's office. "You leave this office, and I'll have you fired."

"Nice try!" Felicity retorted, throwing her arms out in exasperation, "But I already quit!"

. . .

Diggle was left as she stormed out, holding the proverbial bag, Isabel studying him with a disapproving look.

He blamed Oliver, he had done the unthinkable this morning. How could he have the nerve to declare this morning that at least things couldn't get any worse?

"Very well," She turned to Diggle, "We'll need a new secretary. Just inform human resources, someone who actually does their job."

"Oh ma'am," Diggle shook his head, stifling a smile.

And he thought that she and Oliver had reached their boiling point before. Given, he wasn't exactly sure what exactly had conspired between the brunette in the kitten heels, and Felicity, but he was sure that once Oliver found out something was _going_ to be conspiring behind those glass doors. Considering the mess that the office seemed to be in, it looked to be catastrophic.

For the record, he'd warned Oliver it would probably not be for the best to leave Felicity and Isabel alone with one another.

"_Don't be ridiculous," Oliver said, "I think Felicity could hold her own in a fair fight." _

Oliver clearly wasn't seeing that the key problem here was not hair pulling and kicking.

"Is there something you don't understand about those instructions? Do I need to use smaller words?" Isabel asked in an icy tone.

"I don't work for you," Diggle said, a frown creasing his mouth as he realized how much he did not like this woman. "I'm not an employee of this company. I work for the Queen family."

"Well, isn't that just a dwindling enterprise?" Isabel snapped.

He certainly never imagined he'd find someone who would make him so glad he ended up in the employ of the Queen family.

"Furthermore," Diggle informed her, as he walked into the office. "Mr. Queen isn't going to be happy with this."

Isabel rolled her eyes, clearly making a point that Oliver Queen's personal happiness was far down on her list of priorities.

"Yes, well, it appears to be a consistent part of his personality." Isabel said in a dry tone, "He'll have to get over it. I'm not particularly happy to be working with the spoiled playboy but I'm not taking it out on everyone else the way he does."

_She didn't say?_ Diggle had seen and heard otherwise—with loud voices, and choice words.

And that was what Felicity had to say about her on a good day, when her highness Ms. Rochev wasn't in the office.

"_Felicity_!" Oliver said, making the declaration with a smile in his tone as he walked into the office with a two cups of coffee.

Speaking of things not getting worse, Diggle thought, as he glanced at Oliver, if someone didn't accuse him of sleeping with his secretary within the month with the way he acted he'd be amazed.

"We're going to need to have a word with someone about the thermostat—"

He stopped abruptly, a look of mock surprise on his face as he turned towards Isabel.

"What do you know? I thought the temperature dropped twenty degrees."

"Oliver," Isabel stepped forward, with her slim arms crossed over the black dress, looking unamused by him. "I see you're living you are living life as a comedy still. You're late."

"Our coffee machine broke." Oliver said smoothly, "But I see that you're taking the time to redefine evil. So that's nice."

Oliver glanced sideways at Digg, a grin at the corner of his mouth as he was apparently feeling pretty pleased with himself.

"Did you know the devil comes in Prada, Diggle?"

Oliver, Digg groaned quietly, baiting the woman wasn't going to resolve business with her any faster.

"Hire a new secretary." Isabel snapped at him, "We have a mountain of work—"

Oliver's eyebrows furrowed together with a look of rampant irritation as he scanned the room and seemed to realize that Felicity was not present.

"I have a secretary." Oliver said, Digg relieving him of the coffee before something else tragic happened in this room. "Whom I happen to like."

"Obviously." Isabel said, with a sardonic snap at him. "I knew it would only be a matter of time before you selected to bring down the tone of the establishment…even further."

Oliver crossed the room, ignoring her and looking frustrated as he stepped on a sheaf of papers and grabbed them and tossed them on the desk—Felicity's desk—near where Isabel stood.

"Where is she?" Oliver asked Isabel with an edge to his voice. "This is still my office, Isabel, and Ms. Smoak is in my employ—you have no place to do this."

"She quit." Isabel shrugged, seeming unaffected by his ire. "I can't blame the girl. I don't like working with you either."

"I would say it wasn't that cut and dry…sir." Digg interjected, "Our esteemed Ms. Rochev required an apology…and Ms. Smoak declined to give her one. After that, Ms. Smoak quit while she threatened to have her fired."

"You have no business trying to alter the employment status of anyone at this company Isabel!"

"Very well," Isabel said, "Shall we just get this meeting over with then, and the both of us can return to our places until I take the company from you."

"That's not happening." Oliver snapped at her, "And trust me—you do not want to meet with me now."

Oliver turned, glancing up at Diggle, "Help Ms. Rochev find her way out."

"My pleasure, Mr. Queen." Digg tried not to enjoy it too much as Oliver stormed past him, and Isabel turned to look at him with her eyebrows stitched together unhappily.

Not that he imagined it would make her any happier, but she wasn't the first member of the board Oliver had made to feel this way.

. . .

"Oliver!" Felicity swiveled around as she heard the knock on the door pane. "How did you find me here?"

He would have liked to tell her that his instincts were so sharp that he just knew where she would be...but no, his intuition was not without limit; and as he'd been shown time and time again, it was most inadequate in terms of women. Oliver was more distracted by the red eyes and sniffling. This wasn't entirely what he'd been expecting.

Maybe a lot of yelling about MIT and coffee, and at least one pseudo-sexual statement. That was his girl, it was just how she was.

Felicity turned away quickly, rubbing her eyes and putting her glasses on, trying to pretend that no one had seen anything. He wasn't letting her get away that easily.

Oliver was really looking forward to the day when he would be done with Isabel Rochev, and they'd only just begun working together.

"It's not as big of a building as you would think." Oliver told her.

Oliver handed her the handkerchief from his breast pocket, realizing for a second it was moments like this, when he's questioned his father's lessons in decorum with a roll of his eyes as he'd be taught to handle the handkerchief...

_Thanks dad._

"How mad are you?" Felicity asked, rubbing the cloth over her eyes. "You look upset…really upset."

Felicity hung back, leaning against the abandoned desk that had once been hers. If he'd known she felt so sentimental toward the office he'd have made sure it stayed vacated permanently. As it was, they were going to be lucky if this didn't end in some very awkward explanations.

"_Mad_ doesn't quite cover it." Oliver said, turning and glancing into the hall. "What happened was unacceptable, Felicity. I'm furious."

Isabel had done exactly what he was trying to do the opposite of. She was the representation of everything he wanted not to be, both in his life, and at the helm of his family's company. She was elitist, difficult, and unforgiving.

Oliver pushed the door shut, unable to thank of a fitting apology to Felicity. He'd had nothing but dislike for Isabel from the start, but for her to make Felicity-or anyone-on his staff feel driven to tears was unacceptable.

But particularly...somewhere at the root of his being it bothered him to see her upset like this, and unsure of how to fix it.

When Oliver turned back again and saw Felicity biting down on her lip, and looking upset all over again he'd begun to feel impossibly confused.

_Had he said something wrong? _

"Oliver, you're..." Felicity's voice trailed off with a slight catch. "You think-_thought_-I was better than I am, and I made a fool out of myself, and of you. It's all my fault..."

"Oh." The sudden moment of realization occurred to Oliver.

_Of course. Only Felicity…_

"Felicity," Oliver sighed, shaking his head and resting his hands on her shoulder. "For communications sake, you suppose that..."

"You're upset with me." Felicity told him, with an uptick in the statement that suggested something akin to a question as she played with the handkerchief. "Because I lost my temper with that woman and embarrassed you."

"Felicity." Oliver took her chin and raised her head up, "Don't you know me at all?"

"Better than most," Felicity said, flustered as his hand lingered on his face. "I'm with you all night, and I've undressed you..."

She squeezed her eyes shut as her cheeks flushed. Oliver could almost read her mind in this moment, _because this day wasn't already bad enough? _

Oliver wondered if she realized that the brightest spot in his day was usually such moments with her. They made the darker holes of occasional despair in life fade to a dull, manageable grey.

"Apparently we haven't gone nearly far enough." Oliver told her, waiting to see if the double entendre would cause her to blush again. "I'm not upset with you, Felicity. How could I be?"

"You told me I was too good a person to ever sink to her level." Felicity added miserably, "I sunk."

Oliver had to stifle a laugh.

"You're not superhuman. There is one person on earth who brings out the worst in all of us."

"I quit." Felicity said, glancing to him apologetically. "I didn't mean it."

"I hoped not." Oliver told her. "Anything else?"

"I think our problems are a lot bigger than Isabel." Felicity said, handing him back his handkerchief, "Thank you."

"I'd like to say I'd rather not know," Oliver said, "But the last time I tried to choose ignorance in lieu of veracity half of the city was decimated."

Felicity cringed slightly as she considered his words.

"Isabel seems really sure that she is going to sweep the company out from beneath your feet." She said, "I mean, the sort of sure where she is already selecting fabric samples and paint swatches."

"Don't worry." Oliver told her, pushing the door open and waiting on her to go ahead of him. "We're not about to get defeated by her."

Felicity looked up at him and beamed as she walked past him, a fresh new light in her eyes.

"Tell me to do it, Oliver I'm begging you."

"Well, you've hacked every domestic security organization," Oliver told her in a quiet tone as they walked down the hallway. "Ms. Rochev's life should be a pleasure cruise."

"No offense," Felicity told him, "But I can't actually consider 'cruise' in any sort of pleasant connotation since I met you."

Oliver chuckled, _of course._

"No, seriously." Felicity told him, "My parents sent me a ticket for a Bahamian cruise last Christmas and I couldn't do it."

"You're afraid of sinking?" Oliver asked, cocking his eyebrow of her and making a mental note of this newly revealed neurosis. "It's not that common, Felicity."

"Actually, there is an endless amount of terrifying trivia on cruise ships, and if people knew any of it they would shut down the business forever." Felicity pointed her finger at him, and brandished her phone at him.

Oliver laughed, punching the elevator button for the top floor. _The crazy only made her cuter._

"You need to read less." Oliver informed her, "Otherwise I'm going to be forced to take you on a vacation to somewhere that even google can't reach."

"Okay, firstly," Felicity turned and looked up at him making clear she wasn't ready to let it go until he conceded. "Since 1980 sixteen cruise ships have sunk, it hasn't just been smooth failing since Kate let Leo go, and secondly...good luck with that. I haven't taken a vacation since I graduated from college, and if you so much as made me look at a boat I will hack."

There was a long pause, during which Oliver struggled to retain some sort of composure because it just was not appropriate for the CEO to be laughing in an empty elevator with his blonde secretary-this, Oliver was certain of-when Felicity spoke again.

She was aware a boat was not a cruise ship, and he was on a yacht and not a cruise ship, and that it was in fact tampered with to sink. No, he was sure she knew it well.

"Then again, considering I quit my job I have a lot of free time on my hands." Felicity said with a bit of a sideways look at him.

When Oliver looked back at her, there was a teasing twinkling in her eyes. Well, at least she wasn't going to make him beg her to work for him again.

The door opened to their floor, and he gave her a nudge.

"Don't think I'm letting you go that easily." Oliver told her.

"Not in this lifetime." Felicity told him, glancing back his way, before walking along toward their office.

Okay, so maybe he didn't have all the answers, and life wasn't perfect. He'd made more than his fair share of screw-ups along the way, but even with all that, how could he honestly take stock of his life and consider it all that bad when he had a girl like that at his side?

He couldn't.


	4. Trust

His Girl Friday

_Trust_

. . .

Summary: He needs someone beside him he can trust beyond the shadow of a doubt, and Felicity is his girl.

Note: Thanks for the reviews everyone! I feel awful for not thanking you all, but I'm trying to make up for it with early posts all around. In addition, I've got a Halloween story that's going to be up tomorrow (if I ever work my way through editing that mess, so if you are interested in that…), and the next chapter of More Interruptus Than Coitus will be up in a couple days.

. . .

"Mr. Steele," Felicity beamed as she looked up from her desk at saw that the person interrupting her work this time was a welcome distraction. "What a surprise."

"I know, I don't have an appointment." Walter said, setting his briefcase to the side and smiling back at her, "But I supposed that when I heard an old friend was working for Oliver, she might be able to squeeze me in."

She should have known that Walter would be too nice to use the word secretary. Felicity wasn't sure if she hated that word, or assistant more. Neither one exactly left her with the impression she'd hoped to impart in her career at her age.

"Of course I can." Felicity said, as she got up from the desk and came around to talk to him, flipping her tablet over as inconspicuously as possible. "Mr. Queen—Oliver…"

Felicity laughed lightly, nervously as she realized she'd goofed.

"I may be English, but even so let's not be so puritanical." Walter told her, "We are all friends here after all."

She smiled, "Oliver's in a meeting with Deidre Baker from PR, they should be wrapping up soon."

"No rush at all." Walter told her, pulling off his coat, and folding it over his briefcase. "It's merely a social visit, and I was hoping to have a moment with you Felicity."

"Okay." Felicity nodded her head once, unable to shake the slight sense of nerves. Mr. Steel had been her boss, and then she'd helped Oliver save him, and then the way he'd swept in to help Oliver save his father's company.

She had nothing but respect and admiration for Walter, and it seemed unbelievable that he considered her his friend. She was just an IT girl.

_No, actually you're just a personal assistant._

"Don't look so nervous." Walter chided her, "Has Oliver been good to you?"

"Oliver's a good boss." Felicity said, unable to help glancing away to see Oliver in his office in deep conversation with Ms. Baker. "He's doing his best…it's a difficult situation here still."

"I've seen." Walter said with a curt nod, "I was concerned. I saw on the news that terrible business in the Glades. The—"

"Jerk," Felicity interjected sharply, "You mean that idiot politician whose only desire seems to be turning Oliver into a pariah for everyone else's sins? He could have…"

Felicity felt her anger dull into a simmer, knowing that Oliver would tell her to let it go.

"So we share the same concern." Walter nodded his head, "Yes, it was very worrisome."

"Something like that." Felicity said with a sigh, pausing for a moment as the phone rang. "Excuse me."

"Oliver Queen's office, how may I help you?"

Feliicty jotted down the information, a request for an interview with…

"And your name again?" Felicity asked.

"Linda Park." The woman on the other end of the line said, "I'm with the Daily Star, and I'm hoping that Mr. Queen would like to sit down and talk to me about his hopes for the new public relations surge to clean up the reputation of Queen Industries—"

"Oh, Ms. Park, I and Mr. Queen thank you kindly for your interest and it will be my pleasure to add your request to the heaping pile. Now, you have a lovely day now. Bye-bye."

Felicity slammed the phone down into the receiver, and glanced up at Walter again.

"Sorry." She sighed, dropping the note into the trash bin. "Reporters."

"Well, in some circles they do serve their function." Walter said, "And speaking of functions, Felicity, I was quite surprised to see that you conceded to relegating your talents like this. Oliver must have made you an offer you couldn't refuse?"

Felicity nearly laughed aloud. If only he knew. However, the one perk that came with being the overqualified assistant, was the new paycheck. She was pretty sure that it was a bribe to keep her in the desk—because apparently she hadn't proved her commitment otherwise, not that she was complaining—but a twenty percent raise was a nice incentive.

"Oliver's a persuasive guy." Felicity told him, "And he challenges me."

Well, it wasn't a lie. Who wasn't going to be challenged when trying to hack into the NSA?

"Well, it's a brilliant selection on his part." Walter told her, "He's lucky to have you."

Feliicty made a little sound of agreement in her throat, "Don't be afraid to tell him that."

"I wouldn't dare." Walter told her, with a smile.

"How are you doing…" Felicity couldn't bring herself to actually call him Walter. It still felt too strange.

"I'm well. Lunch with Thea, later this week—I'm hoping maybe to persuade Oliver to join us if he isn't too busy."

"I'll do my best to clear his schedule," Felicity told him, agreeing that it would be a good idea. "It'll do Oliver good to get out of this office."

And the other, she tacked on silently. Oliver needed some human time.

The look that Walter gave her now made her wonder if he had jumped to some sort of conclusion, added the wrong connotation to what she'd said. Before she could try and correct him, assuage any concern on his part, the door to Oliver's door opened and he walked out with Ms. Baker.

"Walter," Oliver looked his step-father over with a smile. "This is a surprise. Is everything okay?"

"Quite." Walter said, "Ms. Smoak has been keeping me company."

"Ms. Baker, my step-father Walter Steele—I think you know him. Walter, Deidre Baker—she's in PR."

"Pleasure, Ms. Baker." Walter said shaking her hand, "I hope things are going well."

"We hope so." She replied, "There's a long road ahead, but Mr. Queen and I are ready to fight the uphill battle."

"Good to hear," Walter said.

"Next week then?" Oliver asked her, "You can show me your plans for the applied sciences recruiting."

"Yes sir, of course." Diedre nodded her head in agreement before leaving.

Felicity couldn't help but sort of enjoy watching Oliver like this. He might not be so confident in his place at the helm of Queen Consolidated, but she saw him doing it every day. It might not be his passion any more than scheduling his appointments was hers, but he was doing it because it was the right thing to do.

He was doing it for his family.

How could she not support him in that sort of endeavor?

. . .

Oliver was surprised to see his step-father in the office. He hadn't seen him since Felicity had nudged him, convinced him that if he wanted to save his father's business, he would need his family's help. As she'd said he would, Walter had come through.

He felt guilty for even thinking of the alternative. Walter was too good of a man to not do what he could with so many futures dependent on such assistance. Apart from that, he imagined that Walter had loved the company like he loved their family.

Not that he could blame him for stepping away. The lives they led were complicated.

"I had quite a nice conversation with Felicity." Walter said after Oliver apologized for the wait. "She's always a delight, such an intelligent girl."

Oliver felt the question hanging in the air, Walter too polite to ask. Why did he have someone who was so incredibly overqualified answering his phones, scheduling his appointments, and fetching his coffee?

_Well, it was rare that she did bring him coffee…_

"I need someone I can trust, who I can rely on to inform me when I am making the wrong decision." Oliver said, in reply to Walter's unasked question. "Felicity is the only one I could think of who could do that for me. I need her."

Walter nodded his head understandingly, "It's a wise decision, choosing someone you can trust, and I wasn't questioning it, I just found it remarkable that a woman of her intelligence and experience was willing to settle for merely being an assistant."

"She's a good friend" Oliver said simply, knowing that it was proven all the more by her sacrifice to do this for him. "I learned that from my father, you know."

"Excuse me?" Walter glanced up at him, "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"My father," Oliver said, "He may have made many mistakes whether he was out of the chair, or in it, but he was wise enough to make his number two someone he knew he could always turn to."

"Yes…" Walter's voice trailed off as he mused on Oliver's words. "People may say many things about your father, Oliver, but above all he was an extraordinary friend, I hope you know that."

Oliver smiled, "I'm lucky to have one of them myself."

Looking Walter over, he realized he hadn't been quite clear enough.

"She's not just an assistant, you know. I know what it looks like from the outside, but she does far more than just answer my phones, Walter. I'd be lost without her."

"It begs the question," Walter said, with a surreptitious glance, "Though I have little business raising it, is this an entirely platonic relationship, Oliver"

"Felicity and I are just friends." Oliver stressed the words, wondering why everyone insisted on trying to turn this into something else.

Couldn't two individuals just be friends? It was enough for him. Being lovers was easy, but having a friend as enduring and unselfish as Felicity was something that didn't come along every day.

"Speaking of that," Walter said, a wry smile crossing his face as he looked over at Oliver. "I'm seeing Thea and her boyfriend for dinner tomorrow evening. Is there anything I should know? She sounds quite smitten with him."

"That's one way of putting it." Oliver said grimly.

Really, how could he _have_ a love life of his own when he had so much stress that derived from his sister's? He knew he was being stubborn, somewhere deep down he accepted that he liked Roy—he respected him, in him he could see much of himself—sometimes, he was afraid that he saw too much of himself, and only hoped Thea wouldn't be hurt in the way that he'd hurt people.

He glanced through the glass to see Felicity sitting at her desk, casually sipping from her mug of coffee as she worked at something on her computer. He could almost hear her voice in his head berating him for being so stubborn.

God, she never cut him a break.

"I'll deny it to my grave," Oliver told him, with a slight smile at the corners of his mouth, "But he's a good kid. A little rough around the edges. But a good guy."

"All the best ones are." Walter said, his face turning serious, "Speaking of rough, I've seen the work over that Alderman Blood put you through."

"I've been through worse." Oliver replied, hoping to brush off the subject, "I can handle a few sharp barbs. He has his reasons."

"It's a gracious move to make," Walter said, looking dissatisfied with the reply. "But I saw the crowd mob your car. It's quite out of hand, for your own safety, wouldn't it be best to stay out of the Glades for now, or perhaps have your bodyguard bring some additional protection for such a trip."

A smile crossed Oliver's face. Though he had everything under control, it was always nice to have this reminder that someone cared. For all his mother's faults, she had selected a step-father with a good heart, and he knew that above all—it was something Thea needed. He was glad that Walter had remained a part of their lives.

"I appreciate the concern, Walter." Oliver said, "But I'm never going to change anyone's perception of my family from behind the ivory tower."

"You…" Walter sighed, shaking his head. "You're one of a kind, Oliver. If anyone can turn around the perception of a whole city, it would be you."

"You're not entirely wrong," Oliver said, "I made the mistake of thinking that this city wasn't as angry as it was, and it could have cost me Thea. I've had Diggle hire a new team of security for her."

"I understand that." Walter replied, "When those lunatics kidnapped her…"

Walter's voice trailed off, "She seems to have bounced back quickly."

"It was luck." Oliver said, "I'm well aware of how much worse it could have been. I don't intend on letting her get caught in the crossfire again."

"It was luck that this so called vigilante as there to save her, I mean." Walter said, "She was telling me all about this campaign that she and the young man are working on—Hood the Hero, snappy title, isn't it?"

For a moment, Oliver was stunned into silence.

"I didn't know she was involved in something like that."

"Yes," Walter smiled, "I thought it was rather ingenious. Queen Consolidated isn't the only one who could use an overhaul in its public relations. I rather think that vigilante is too strong a term."

"Do you?" Oliver asked. "People seem to find him dangerous."

"It seems like he is working to make the city a safer place," Walter said, "Apart from that, I would find it difficult to critique anyone harshly who was able to rescue Thea from the sort of harm those thugs were looking to inflict."

"I can't argue with that." Oliver said, with a low mumble of agreement.

This might become awkward, he thought. How was he supposed to keep his sister from danger if she was trying to align herself closer to the Arrow.

"Besides, Oliver, this very country was built on those who rose against public opinion and the standard government in the time to create something better for the future. Many of those men weren't necessarily the most popular individuals in their time." Walter leaned forward in his chair, "More than that, they accepted that popularity wasn't the key to creating change—those who seek to make a radical change can never garner the whole of public opinion."

Oliver found himself struck by the comment, by Walter's wisdom on the subject. It was a different perspective, an honest one, and he appreciated hearing it.

"Mr. Queen," Felicity knocked on the door before entering, "Sorry for interrupting, Mr. Steele…"

"Walter," he interceded, "Felicity, please. Walter is more than sufficient."

Felicity smiled at them both, "Your two-fifteen called to cancel, so the rest of your afternoon is clear, Oliver."

"Felicity," Walter said, waving her into the office. "Please, join us. Oliver and I were having the most interesting conversation, and I'd love to hear your perspective. It's always ever so unique."

"O…okay." Felicity glanced sideways at Oliver, who got up and gestured for her to take his seat, on the chair across from Walter, and stood near her. "What's the conversation?"

Oliver almost could have laughed at the worried look on Felicity's face. He couldn't wait to hear what she had to say.

"The vigilante, what's your opinion of him?" Walter asked, "Friend or foe?"

"Well, I hate to mark myself down in the groupie column."

Oliver watched, stifling a laugh as Felicity squeezed her eyes shut, a soft pink flush of embarrassed color filling her cheeks.

_She just couldn't help herself, could she?_

Felicity sighed, "One day I'm going to think before I speak. But, I think he's the greatest thing to happen to this city since they fixed the parking meters. He's going to change this entire city. He's no vigilante either, he's a hero if ever there was one, and he's going to save us all."

Her glance lingered toward him for a moment, "We're lucky to have him."

"There it is." Walter said, "Well said, with opinions like this, I'll have no choice but to invest in Thea's campaign."

"What campaign?" Felicity asked.

"Hood the Hero." Oliver said, glancing her way with a wry, sort of half smile. "Can you imagine?"

A slight frown crossed Felicity's face.

"What's wrong?" Oliver asked her, "You look a bit disgruntled."

"Disgruntled?" Felicity said, "I'm furious. I can't believe I didn't have the idea myself."

Walter chuckled, "If only he was as lucky as to have an ally with gifts like yours, Felicity."

"If only." Oliver said smoothly, "Unfortunately for him, she's taken."


	5. Push-and-Pull

His Girl Friday

_Push-and-Pull_

. . .

Summary: Oliver tells Felicity to stay home, and he's the boss…right? Sort of a tag to 2.03.

Note: As usual, timeliness has been poor this week all around. I can't even… _pfft_. Still hoping to get those stupid Halloween stories up. I clearly, _clearly_ overestimate the amount of writing time that exists in my life.

. . .

Oliver walked toward the office, feeling like the day was looking bad already. He was supposed to be meeting with Marisol Woo from the Starling City Reporter, and considering that she had written three months of articles angling toward making him into the villain of the story this year, and he was down his girl…

He sighed, Felicity needed a few days off to recover, and he felt more than guilty enough that he had let her get hurt. This was exactly what worried him, bringing her and Digg in—and now with Roy Harper out there being his ears…there were so many people who could be hurt.

This time, they'd all been lucky. Everyone was okay. She'd hit her head, but she was going to be okay. Naturally, Felicity tried to brush him off, spending an hour telling him that she was fine. None of it mattered though, because it just shouldn't have happened.

No matter how much she believed in him to keep her safe, he was not infallible.

On the bright side, she would be back tomorrow. He was counting the minutes already, because sometimes it felt like she was the only…friend he had here. Even when she was yelling at him.

Though, it might be nice to have a secretary who would bring him coffee.

"Oliver, you're late."

In the doorway, Oliver froze as Felicity dropped a handful of files in his arms, a bright smile on her face like she was exactly where she should be.

_What was happening? Was she trying to drive him crazy? She was not supposed to be here. They'd agreed!_

"Don't just stand there." Felicity said with a shake of her head, "In the name of saving the city, we've gotten a little bit sloppy around here and the last thing we need is Woo catching a hint of it. You have to be infallible. That's a nice jacket, though."

Felicity turned on her heel, heading back toward the desk before turning back around and looking him over,

"Oliver!" Felicity sighed, "Sometimes I don't know why I bother!"

Funny, he was thinking the same thing. He thought they had addressed this last night when he told her to stay in bed, and do not, under any circumstances to leave. Do not come to work. It had seemed so simple.

He could handle one day in the office on his own accord. He was not a child who needed his nanny.

Did he make the mistake of thinking that he wanted her back? What he meant was that he wanted to ship her off to an island for a couple of weeks, and have just a little give on the leash. Wasn't there some sort of summer camp for the Steve Jobs set that he could deposit her in?

He stifled the smile, only able to imagine how that sort of remark would infuriate her.

She gestured toward him with annoyance, before opening up her desk and pulling out a small box.

"I told you, don't wear the red, the red will make you look washed out on camera, and besides—people don't like red. It looks too harsh. Also, it connotes violence sometimes."

"So does my last name, but we can't exactly strip that away." Oliver remarked sarcastically.

Nanny. He was going to be nanny'd to death by this stubborn, too smart for her own good, blonde in strappy heels. It was never the way he pictured it going. Good god, he was supposed to be the CEO of a multi-national corporation, he could pick out a tie! It did not require his concussed girl coming into work to baby-sit him.

Not that anyone would be any the wiser with the way Felicity was treating him now.

"Put on the blue." She instructed him, as she set it on top of the files he was holding. "Change the ties, and sign the papers, I'll call someone in the café to bring up some water—glasses and a pitcher, not plastic, because god knows that last thing we need is people to decide that the company is anti-environment as well."

Felicity sighed, planting her hands on her hips and looking him over with a frown.

Because what, suddenly he didn't look sufficient? Oliver was tempted to ask that very question, if only to see the blush, followed by the slow burn as she realized he was teasing her but he was too frustrated with her right now for that.

"What?" She asked. "Do I have something on my face?"

"I don't even know where to start." Oliver said, leaning past her and setting both the tie and files on her desk, "Maybe I hit my head and sustained a concussion."

"Oliver," Felicity sighed exasperatedly, and shook her head. "Don't get melodramatic now."

"Oh no, my mistake," Oliver said, planting his arms on the table around her, and looking into her big blue eyes for any sign of trouble. "That was _you_."

"Oliver…" Felicity sighed, "You're blowing this out of proportion. I'm fine."

"We talked about this." Oliver told her, a frown creasing his features as he didn't let her slip away from him. "I thought that we agreed that you would take the day off from this job that you tolerate."

Oliver stepped back now, and gave her a little bit of space, knowing she wasn't going to make this easy on him. Why did she have to be so damn stubborn?

"I don't…" Felicity frowned, and pointed at him, deciding to give up on that line of argument. "Actually, we didn't agree on anything. You spent half an hour babying me and telling me not to come into the office, and I just stopped arguing because my cell phone bill is already astronomical. It's an important day, and I wasn't about to let you travel these shark infested waters on your own."

She picked up the papers and tie and shoved them back into his hands.

"Face it, you need me."

It wasn't like that was the point of contention, Oliver thought. It didn't take a genius to prove that he needed Felicity.

"I do, which is why I'm calling Digg to take you home, so that we can carry on this argument for many more for years to come." Oliver told her, "Your health comes first."

"Part of which consists of my sanity, which cannot handle the thought of you muddling your way through a feature with that dragon." Felicity told him, throwing her arms up in the air in frustration with him. "I'm well, I'm fine. I didn't even really hit my head. I would feel just fantastic if you would take off that tie, and but on the blue one."

"You were unconscious, and went to the hospital." Oliver reminded her, "Hardly a cut and scrape. And I don't need the blue tie."

"I'd be willing to compromise if you're going to be stubborn." Felicity said, "You can put on the tie, _and_ I'll stick around and help you until the interview with Woo is over, and then—"

"That's not a compromise, it's an ultimatum." Oliver said.

"Nope." Felicity shook her head, "I'm actually a lot surer that whatever it is that you're about to say is an ultimatum—not that I'm nitpicking."

"I'm calling Digg to come and take you home." Oliver told her, "It's merely a fact."

"And I'll counter it by telling you that you aren't and I'm not." Felicity said, standing her ground obstinately.

"Yes, you are." Oliver told her, pointedly ignoring the tie, and all further discussion of the subject. "And I don't care what it takes. You're going home and staying there Felicity."

"Oliver," Felicity hurried after him, into his office.

"I'm going to assume you won't put Diggle through for me, will you?" Oliver asked, raising his eyebrow at her, and Felicity just glared back at him. "No, I didn't think so."

"You're wasting your time." Felicity informed him, crossing her arms over her chest and looking like she'd finally gotten the upper hand in this argument. "I'm not leaving you here with that snake charmer, and it's not like Diggle is going to toss me over his shoulder and carry me out of here."

Oliver set the phone down and looked up at her, realizing that she did have a point.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing that I don't have any such reservations."


	6. Family

His Girl Friday

_Family_

_. . ._

Summary: It was hardly a Euripides saga, but it wasn't exactly an Apatow comedy either.

Note: Thanks as always to everyone for continuing to read and to review as well! It really means a lot to see how many people appreciate—or conversely do not—my writing. I really love the feedback, and well…you're all amazing. I've been itching to do this topic for ages, and then boom! I decided I wanted to go to sleep and it happened.

Okay, so here's the deal. When writing _More Interruptus Than Coitus_, I developed a rule of thumb. If more than half of my reviewers makes a request for something—then for the love of God, how can I deny it? Easily, _easily_ more than half of you asked to see Oliver carrying Felicity out, and I promise you that I will write it at some point in the near future, and it will happen…just be patient. Besides, haven't I earned enough cred yet that if I say I will…I will? ;D

Also, I think feminists the world over are shedding tears to see the sheer number of us who like the idea…and I'm glad to know I'm not alone in this sort of sick fantasy of having Stephen Amell toss me over his shoulder and carry me off…so…sorry to Gloria Steinhem & Betty Freidan. Two semesters of women's studies was an ineffective defense against Stephen and his abs, and that handsome face.

. . .

"Good news, Oliver." Felicity said, pointing a warning finger at him as he strolled into the office with two cups of coffee and his serious face. "I'm only taking good news today, I am in my happy place."

And god, was she ever working for the wrong person for that. Was it so much to ask that just once he told her something that did not result in terror and danger? Or even bring her good news coffee? She was confident that as good as a latte tasted any time of the day, it would be that much better supplemented by happy news.

"We have a situation." Oliver said slowly, offering her the latte on top. "Soy, two pumps of vanilla, _extra_ foam. It's hot, don't burn yourself."

"Oliver!" Felicity exclaimed, taking the coffee with a begrudging look cast upon that pretty trouble carrying face. "I am in my happy place. For the twenty-eight minutes I've been in this office my day has been all upside, _let_ me break the half hour mark before you drive me to the unhappy place..._please_."

A smile crossed Oliver's face and he dropped down in the chair across her desk instead of going to his office as he often did.

_God, really? Was he going to be like this all day? _

"Okay," he agreed with a nod of his head, popping the lid from his coffee, and sipping slowly.

For a long, dissatisfied moment, Felicity _watched_ him, her nose crinkling with annoyance.

Well, she hadn't expected it to go like that; never mind that Oliver couldn't just drop in with his serious face, and Starbucks, and '_we have a situation, Felicity'_. What was _wrong_ with him?

Life just didn't work like that. The U.S. didn't drop a bomb on Hiroshima for the Japanese to turn around and say, well okay, let's take a breather _now_. No, _no_ that didn't happen because the city was already burning!

Once the city is burning you've got to pull out the fire extinguisher, and pray you don't get burned.

"You can't just do that." Felicity sighed, watching the second hand on the clock hit on twenty-nine. "You already lead me on."

She was struck for a moment by the unfortunate equivocation that resided there. Felicity chose to pretend she didn't even notice it, sort of a new thing she was trying out. Some people were rocking the bangs trend, she was going to try out pretending that every other sentence she uttered did not involve some sort of sexual double meaning.

I.E. She was putting ignorance in the beta testing phase.

"You have one more minute of peace." Oliver told her, sipping his coffee with an air of relaxedness around him. "Drink your latte, and embrace it."

Stubbornly, Felicity pushed her latte back across the desk, and looked up at him.

"Is it really worth sacrificing your minute of peace?" Oliver raised his eyebrow at her, and sat back in the chair. "Speaking of peace, I'm thinking of installing iron bars on Thea's bedroom on the off chance that her security team is as effective as they were when I was her age."

For a second, Felicity wasn't sure if she wanted to berate him for running into her office and yelling fire, or…

"What is wrong with you?" Felicity asked him, "Is that even legal? Are you trying to keep her in or him out?"

_Or smack him for being such a sexist jerk!_

"I'm going to try and recover from the unsettling double entendre you're implying—"

Felicity felt her cheeks flush. It wasn't even fair, she hadn't meant it like that! And he knew it, he did, he did, he did! Why did he keep torturing her like this?

"Oliver! I didn't—"

"You didn't mean it like that." He finished for her, "Of course. And I'm not being unreasonable, of course I'm not trying to keep her locked up in her room like some fairytale monster, I just don't want to walk into her room and find her with her boyfriend. I spent five years on an island, Felicity, I've sustained all the nightmare a man can take."

"Hm." Felicity made a disapproving sound, "Well, you could try knocking first. And you can quit using that as an excuse, secondly."

"That is…" Oliver narrowed his eyes at her unhappily. "Entirely beside the point. Sometimes, I don't know why I even bother with you."

"Don't be cranky just because I'm not telling you that you're the wise all-knowing Lord over all." Felicity told him, "You know I'm right. You can't expect her to act differently than you did."

Besides, what was the point in pretending? Sure, they were girls but, here was a newsflash for Mr. Five-Years-On-The-Desert-Island, _they liked sex too_!

"I can, and I will, and I do." Oliver said, "Trust me, you didn't know eighteen year old me. You wouldn't have liked that guy."

"I'd be willing to argue that." Felicity felt a slight burn in her cheeks, and ducked her face away from his. She didn't think that she'd have been able to fight the blue eyes and perfect jawline, and _all that charm_. "However, there's a metaphorical fire somewhere in the city, so I'd better not. What's the crisis?"

"Well, now you're just changing the subject." Oliver told her, leaning back in the chair and looking slightly smug.

"Oliver!" Felicity narrowed her eyes at him and frowned. "How is it that you can make a good morning this bad, so quickly?"

"Wait for it," Oliver said, with a slow grin, pausing for a moment before continuing. "There is a tall brunette downstairs."

"Well, then why are you sitting here with me?" Felicity asked him, with a raised eyebrow.

It didn't sound like the sort of problem he usually struggled with. If she was really thinking about it, wasn't a tall brunette right up his alley? She was sure he would be just fine.

"Can't you handle that on your own?" Felicity added.

"I'd rather not." Oliver told her, with a shake of his head. "She told Amanda in reception that her daughter is a supervisor in the IT Department. Also, that her daughter is this cute, sort of perky blonde..."

It was a bit of a slow burn. Felicity _heard_ the words as he spoke them, but the weight of them didn't really quite sink in until he had finished.

"Oh no." Felicity said in a sort of horrified squeak as she jumped up from her desk. "God, please no."

She nearly overturned her coffee, and turned in a hysterical action to try and pull herself together. _Get a grip on yourself, you are a grown woman—and hey, Oliver…Oliver's probably playing you…and you just fell for it._

"Oliver," Felicity turned and looked to him, with a desperate look in her eyes. "Just...please. Tell me this is your version of a joke to break up a slow day...or April fools. That—I can handle that."

Totally—she could handle a joke, what she could not handle was her mother, in her work, and after three hours of sleep to boot.

"It's November." Oliver told her, swiping up the coffee before she could spill it on her computer as she jumped to her feet. "And I think you're overreacting. It's not like your mother is incarcerated for a genocide plot."

"Don't count it out. She's not exactly Marcia Brady." Felicity told him, as she rushed toward the door with him on her heels.

By the time this is over, Felicity thought, they both going to hope her mother was locked up. Either that, or they were going to have to lock her up.

Felicity was at the door, desperately turning a hundred different brands of reasoning over in her mind when she realized that she wasn't alone.

"Whoa, whoa…" Felicity stopped in the doorway, and held her hands up to stop him, when she realized that Oliver apparently intended on following her down to the lobby for what might be the biggest upset since Joan Crawford unleashed hell, and wiped out the wire industry in _Mommie Dearest_. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Oh, back downstairs definitely." Oliver told her, with a nod of his head. "Do you really think that I'd abandon you to fend for yourself? I'm not that guy."

Right, he was the other guy, the mean guy who would take great pleasure out of the worst day of her life at Queen Consolidated—and this was including the time she thought she was going to be fired.

His blue eyes twinkled teasingly at her—because apparently this was just downright delightful for him. And oh! She was just so happy that the misery being inflicted on her made for entertainment for him.

"I think that you're a sadistic master—"Felicity squeezed her eyes shut and tried to stifle a groan, while she tried to forgo the excruciating shame of these fifty shades of mortal embarrassment.

Ignorance was not working out to her benefit.

She turned toward him, struggling to make eye contact again. "You know what I meant."

"Right," Oliver nodded his head, his mouth twitching upwards into a smile. "You told me that your parents knew about the job. I remember because you stormed out of this office, waving your arms, and yelling at me about having to tell your parents that you had a new position and the condemnation and torment that rained down from the heavens along with it…"

"Sort of." Felicity cringed, never assuming that this would come back to bite her. "I said that I got a promotion, I just didn't really talk about the particulars. And I didn't quite make it into the Euripides saga that you are."

"You _lied_." Oliver told her, leaning close to her and looking more amused by the minute.

She could tell that he had no intention of _ever_ letting her live this down.

"Oh!" Felicity pointed at him harshly, as it hit her. "Pot! Kettle! I'm not _even_ taking a lecture on transparency from you. It's like learning how to swim from a cat!"

"Albeit," Oliver gestured for her to move along, reminding her painfully that her mother was in their lobby probably working her way up to a lecture like she had seen the night she went to her first high school party and tried to pass off drunk as tired. "I have nothing else on my plate right now, and I'm here to help. To rescue the damsel in distress, if need be."

Felicity looked him over, still feeling that it was an incredibly bad idea. This wasn't how she pictured happening, actually she much preferred her parents safely tucked three states away so she could live her life...

No, that covered it pretty much. So _she could live her life_ without mortifying moments like this.

"Well, I am going to have to make up some fairly absurd lies." Felicity retorted, raising her eyebrow at Oliver and nodding her head after thinking it through. "I suppose you might be my number one guy for that."

"Felicity," Oliver shook his head and grinned. "Have I ever told you that you never fail to make me feel wanted?"

_Don't you dare bite._ She warned herself. He does not get to win after bringing this nightmare into your life.

A small part of her realized that this situation was not entirely, one-hundred percent Oliver's fault, and the other part was really enjoying yelling at him about it.

"I'm starting a club." Felicity replied acerbically, "Isabel Rochev signed on as a charter member, you think there will be any other interested parties?"

"Try my sister." Oliver replied with a chuckle, having no trouble finding the funny in this awful situation—_since it wasn't affecting him_, Felicity thought, _she was sure it was a lot easier_!

Felicity turned on her heel as she stormed down the hall, and mumbled to herself, "Or maybe I can just open up the phonebook and start with 'A' and go from there."

"I heard that." Oliver called after her, keeping up at her clip easily with his long stride. "Did they forget the espresso in your latte this morning, or did someone swing by and replace the cute, perky blonde—hello David."

Oliver paused in his commentary on her personality as the CFO walked past, looking disgruntled, and mumbling a 'Yes, good afternoon Mr. Queen' as he rushed past.

Sometimes she wondered if Oliver even cared that half of the secretarial staff thought that they were sleeping together—because contrary to popular opinion, she did. She never imagined that she'd be the 'sleep your way to the top' type. Never mind having to suffer through the indignity of it without any of the benefits.

_Oh God no_. Felicity felt her cheeks flush warmly at the thought. _Aren't you in enough trouble already? Just stop thinking!_

"With this irascible, neurotic version that doesn't like me very much." Oliver said in a quick breath, greeting Hannah Feinstein, the assistant director of communications as she rushed past them in conversation with her assistant. "I liked the other one better."

"Ooh, you know what?" Felicity stopped abruptly, and turned to face him, pointing brutally in his face. "You did, _really_? Because that girl also really liked her job in the IT department, _but that girl died_."

"You're doing the angry thing again." Oliver told her, struggling to not laugh. "Feel better, yet?"

"I don't even like you anymore!" Felicity hissed at him, before turning back around and punching the down button on the elevator hard. "Not even a little bit."

. . .

As soon as she stepped off of the elevator, Felicity saw her mother. Tall, elegant looking in cool slaks and cream heels and without have any of that airplane mussed hair that she always got. Victoria Smoak stood at the reception desk, talking pleasantly with the security guard, and with sweaty palms and a catch in her throat, Felicity froze, somehow deciding this was just not going to work.

She turned around to flee back into the elevator and bumped into Oliver.

"It's the other way." Oliver said, taking her wrists and turning her back around. "I haven't seen you this nervous since I sent you into an underground casino."

"Yeah, that…" Felicity glanced up at him, "Can I do that again instead?"

Oliver chuckled, "You're hysterical."

He nudged her along, and as they left the elevator Felicity sighed deeply.

"You don't understand." She told him, "My mother and I have a very…_complicated_ relationship."

"Felicity, my mother is in prison and my father was part of a murder plot—do you really need to tell me about complicated relationships?"

Before Felicity could correct him, and explain that in no way could it possibly compare to this situation that was about to unfold—Frank the security guard gestured their way, and Felicity took him off of the donut list forever. He was banned from the Sunday donut box.

"Okay Oliver," Felicity swiveled on her heel as her mom repeated her name again in that 'I'm-not- yelling-I'm-speaking-to-you' voice that made her skin crawl like she was still twelve years old, and made it impossible to hear her middle name without wondering what she'd done wrong. She was almost certain that she had a haunting nightmare that played out painfully similar to this. "Okay...I know that I have been less than a hundred percent gracious about this demotion you gave me—"

"Promotion," Oliver interjected, not seeming at all concerned by her mother coming their way, with a determined look on her face.

_Only because you don't know her, _Felicity thought._ If you did, you would duck and cover._

"And you're forgiven."

Well, she wasn't looking for forgiveness, firstly, and secondly that was easy enough for him, she thought. His mother was safely locked away in prison, but there was no hiding from hers. She knew, because she had tried with great effort.

"You've been very mean about the promotion I gave you." Oliver told her.

"Yeah, well we can argue about that and the salary that doesn't correspond to my quote-unquote 'promotion' if you decide not to fire me when his is all over."

Felicity finished the sentence in a rushed hiss of a breath as her mom approached them.

"I would never…" Oliver said, a slight grin on his face. "Who would google for me then?"

As much as she wanted to give him a mountain of hell for boiling the hours she put into work for him down to a google search, she did not have to opportunity. Before her mother could say a word, Felicity jumped to fill the silence.

"Mom, hi...it's so nice to see you." Felicity said, pushing the button for the elevator before her mom could embarrass her in from of the whole company instead of just her boss. "You had a nice flight? You know, I bet you did. You're always so much smarter about it than I am. I try and stuff so much into my suitcases, and then I cram a dozen books in my carry on that I know I'm never going to read, even though I should, and I get to the airport minutes before the flight and it just—"

_It's stressful…sort of like this._

"Felicity," Victoria Smoak crossed her slim arms over her chest and brushed her cocoa colored hair back with a studied eye. "You're babbling. What is wrong now? A visit from your mother can't possibly be so terrible, can it?"

_You mean aside from the fact that you're cornering me at work, in front of my boss-on a Wednesday, for god's sake? Nope, she couldn't imagine why she was bothered at all._

"Nothing." Felicity said, biting back a retort and offer to have someone help her find her way back to the airport.

"By which, I think she means she's happy to see you." Oliver said, extending his hand to her.

"Oh, well, a man who needs no introduction." Victoria rises an eyebrow, nodding her head towards Felicity as she shook his hand and she wasn't yet sure if it was a thinly veiled insult or approval. "A pleasure, Mr. Queen."

_It was tough, sometimes a pretty face did balance out a bad reputation with her. _

"Well, don't believe everything you hear." Oliver said, gesturing for her and Felicity to go into the elevator, and holding the door back.

"What excellent advice." Victoria said, clasping her hands together as she turned to look at Felicity. "I've been reminding myself of the same thing ever since I heard this god awful rumor that _my daughter_, with a degree from MIT was working as a secretary."

"Right out of the gate with that, then?" Felicity sighed, brushing her hair back nervously. "_Mom_. Now is not the time, please."

"Oh, like it's _not_ the time for you to come home for Andrea's wedding—even though she made you a bridesmaid even after that kerfuffle that thanksgiving, or _not_ the time to attend David's bar mitzvah, after the way that Aunt Diane and Uncle Joey were always so good to you, or the way you didn't have the time after an earthquake shook the city you live in to call your mother and let her know you were okay? I can only imagine."

Felicity could feel Oliver's eyes burning into her back, and knew what he was thinking. Why didn't she just tell him? Well, because frankly, stopping a serial killer intent on turning girls into dolls seemed more important than zipping herself into an ugly lilac dress, and while she'd have loved to be the good daughter at her cousin's bar mitzvah she was jumping out of a helicopter and hoping she wouldn't be blown up.

All of which was infinitesimally better than the alternative, so how could she complain?

"Never even mind the fact that there is a masked lunatic running around this city putting arrows in people, and you can't pick up your phone and tell me you're alive. How do you expect me to sleep at night?

"Mom, trust me I am at the bottom of this guy's to do list..." Felicity cringed, trying to stifle a miserable groan, with her hands frozen in front of her, Oliver turning her way just in time for her to see the amused twinkle in his eyes.

_God, it was just a bad day all around._

The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival on the thirty-sixth floor, and Felicity let out a sigh.

"That's us." Oliver said with a cheery spring in his voice.

"And I texted dad after the earthquake to tell him that I was fine." Felicity reminded her mother. "Speaking of, where is dad?"

"He's at a conference in Tampa." Victoria told her, "And if you called more often, maybe you'd know."

That was her mother, she played it fine and civil over the phone and then flew in to passive aggressively snark her. This was no way to live.

"For goodness sake darling, you live in California, not a third world country. A phone call is not so much to ask for." Victoria told her, "Even Jeffery Dahmer phoned his mother."

"Oh, oh…" Felicity shook her head, trying to pull herself together for five minutes. How was it that every time she saw her mother she felt like degrading into a thirteen year old girl?

"I mean, this city was in shambles, people were dying and you couldn't pick up the phone." Victoria railed, "People would ask me if you were okay, why doesn't Felicity visit anymore…has something dreadful happened? Something more dreadful than you confirming the rumors I hear downstairs with that little dress."

For a moment, Felicity was stunned and aghast. Her mother had never really been one to mince words, but…

"Rumors?" Oliver asked, looking between them curiously. "What rumors?"

"Nothing. None." Felicity said, trying to brush him off before that became one more awkward facet of their relationship.

Sometimes she really thought that Oliver was completely and utterly blind to anything that wasn't directly arrow related—but that was so not something she was dealing with today, or ever, preferably.

"Mom, please…can you turn off the soap opera that is running in your head right now. It isn't like that. I'm just an assistant to the CEO of one of the most important corporations in this country currently. It's an incredible opportunity. The only reason that I've missed these events is that I have about twenty-three cousins and if I dropped everything each time that someone was getting married or mitzvahed it would be detrimental to my career."

"Career? Felicity, a career implies a position that involves going further than the café to fetch coffee for your boss." Victoria informed her, "No matter how delicate his features are. I have a pair of college interns who do it, and for free—so you see where my concern lies."

"Mrs. Smoak," Oliver said, interjecting into the conversation for the first time since he'd introduced himself.

Felicity was glad, the last thing she needed was for her mom to tear through some of his poorly crafted lies.

"I'm sure you're concerned that your daughter's talents are being wasted by working with me, but I can assure you—she is much more than a secretary. It's hardly coffee and bagels, she's my most trusted advisor."

_Oh Oliver_, Felicity sighed silently, unable to be too angry. He had been trying to help. He was also far from prepared for an encounter with Victoria Smoak.

"Mr. Queen, from what I gather, you're sort of new to this, so I'm going to give you a crash course—if one answers phones, fetches coffee, and organizes your schedule that person is a secretary. Dress it up however you like, but it does not change it."

"Oh—okay." Felicity shook her hands, nudging Oliver out of the way; this was far too much now. She really couldn't face her mother rebuking Oliver. "This is getting ridiculous."

She turned to Oliver,

"Mr. Queen, _you_ have some paperwork in your office that needs to be taken care of immediately." Felicity grabbed his arm and pulled him forward when he didn't move. "Mom, I'll be right back."

"Oh, I'll be here." Victoria said.

"I bet." She mumbled under her breath.

Once the door to Oliver's office closed behind her, she looked up at him.

"Not a word. This is shaping up to be the worst day I've had in this office and that includes the time people shot at us and we jumped through a plate glass window." Felicity sighed, glancing back into the outer office where her mother was perusing her desktop.

"What I wouldn't give right now for an arrow." She mumbled, as her mom picked up a picture frame and shook her head before putting it down again.

"Felicity," Oliver chuckled, "You have a dark side?"

She glared at him, before pointing to the pile of papers on his desk.

"These all need to be signed and sent out. It turns out that there is a misconception that Oliver Queen just sits up in his big office doing…nothing. _Nothing_." Felicity stressed, so not ready or willing to tackle the subject of the gossips who decided that she was sleeping with him. "So, get that done. We are overdue to amend that."

"And you work for me?" Oliver laughed, "Really, someone should clear that up."

"When you're done," Felicity told him, "Diggle is working on getting some intel from his friend in the FBI, so you should give him a call. I'm going to try and get rid of her, and—"

"I'm going to do what you're telling me to." Oliver said with a smile, "For now, at least."

"_Thank_ you." Felicity said, turning on her heel in a huff.

Well, so much for laying some ridiculous lies on her mother. No, she was an adult, and it was time to start getting honest. This at least was something she could be honest about.

As the door to Oliver's office closed behind her, Felicity sighed, and looked her mother over. They were just such different people, and they were never, never going to see eye-to-eye. They were overdue to face it. She'd let her mom change her on a lot of things, but there here—the work she did with Oliver; well, this was unalterable.

"Okay mom," Felicity said, "You've stormed the castle, and made a solid effort into trying to guilt me into submission. What's next?"

"Oh honey," Victoria shook her head, a sad look on her face. "This isn't a battle. I'm just…you're better than this, you know."

Felicity was stunned into silence.

"Better than what?"

She'd never heard her mother talk to her like this.

"Playing second fiddle." Victoria told her. "You shouldn't be anyone's assistant. You're intelligent, and beautiful, and…I know that we don't have the relationship that you and your father have, but I don't want you to throw it all away on a man. I don't want you to make a mistake."

As her mother spoke, Felicity realized that she wished it was that simple. It wasn't about one man. She didn't give up that awful little office with no windows and a job that she loved—and she had, she had loved her job—for a man. Not even Oliver.

She gave up that job, as much as it was what she'd thought she'd spent four years of her life working towards for something much bigger.

"Mom, thank you for saying so." Felicity said with a slight smile as she crossed the room to linger across the desk and look at her mother. "Saying all those nice things…but there is nothing like that going on. I didn't leave my job to come up here because of anything like that, because…"

Felicity gestured sort of uncomfortably and stiffly in the direction of Oliver's office.

"You forget," Victoria said, "I've seen the man, Felicity."

She laughed, not meaning to. Felicity had always been envious of her mother's flawless confidence and grace. Her mother would never be flustered in front of an attractive man, she certainly wouldn't be rattled by a crush.

"He's not just a pretty face." For a moment, Felicity lost her train of thought as she considered how awkward she would feel, just knowing that Oliver was listening even though she'd tried to distract him with work. "The company, it's not at its best right now, but he's trying to do something really incredible, turn the entire thing on its head and make it into something great. I know that it sounds…completely insane, but how many times in life do you get a chance to be a part of something that you can believe in with every part of you."

Felicity waited for her mother's rebuttal, the argument that she was crazy to be doing this. What sort of sensible person gave up a good job to play assistant to a party boy turned CEO? It just wasn't a safe choice. The thing was, she'd taken the safe choice every day of her life, made her selections conservatively, but Oliver had given her a whole new way to live her life and she couldn't imagine going back.

"Okay." Victoria nodded her head, seeming satisfied with the answer as she slipped her clutch under her arm.

"Okay?" Felicity asked, sure now that she had missed something.

Victoria Smoak didn't just retract her claws from the beginning of an argument. Felicity had lost count of the number of arguments that had led to her retreating to the bathroom in tears because she was so immovably firm in her opinion, and that was only last Thanksgiving.

"Felicity Megan Smoak," Victoria shook her head, "I can count on one hand the number of times you have stood your ground and actually argued with me about something. If a wedding and a bar mitzvah was the cost of this…"

Victoria smiled, and patted her on the shoulder.

"You've changed." She said, "And I like this new girl. You're self-assured, and confident enough to stand up to your over-bearing mother. Something is clearly right here—I don't know if it is the job, or some man in your life…"

Victoria shrugged, "I only have one criticism."

"Um…yes?" Felicity was still trying to gather herself, unable to quite believe what was happening.

"If this town is ever rattled by a disaster and you don't call me and let me know you're alive I'll kill you myself."

A smile crossed Felicity's face, "Okay, you're right. I'm sorry about that."

"Also," Victoria cleared her throat, "Your father and I are having our thirtieth wedding anniversary party in two weeks, and should you not be present—I don't care if there is a natural disaster or this arrow person has you at knife point, you will not be happy with me."

"Anniversary." Felicity nodded her head, hoping that in two weeks Starling City could do her the decency of taking a time out for the weekend. "Got it."

"Very good." Victoria gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek, then glanced toward Oliver's office, catching him watching them. "I gather you can hear us, Mr. Queen and I don't care if you accompany my daughter but if she is not home in two weeks for this party, you'll not be the last person to see my less cordial side."

"Now, I'm going to catch the next flight back to Seattle." Victoria told her, "I'll see you at the party, and you can meet Andrea's new husband he's—"

"A dentist." Felicity supplied with a grin.

"A very nice young man, I was going to say." Victoria told her.

"And also a dentist." Felicity said, "Isn't he?"

"And I thought I liked this new confident side of my daughter?" Victoria shook her head, "Yes, the man is a nice Jewish dentist, are you happy now?"

"Not nearly as happy as Aunt Barb is." Felicity told her.

. . .

"Stop looking so smug, Oliver." Felicity rolled her eyes as he brought her the signed papers.

"Felicity," Oliver grinned, as he slipped into the seat across her desk "I don't even know where to start."

"Then how about you don't?" Felicity suggested to him, as she flipped through the documents to make sure that everything was in place.

At least this would keep the CFO off of their backs for the moment, and hopefully keep Isabel Rochev at bay for a little while.

"You have an interview scheduled on the twenty-ninth with Brenda Star, it won't be anything too strenuous—she knows that the talking points are limited to our acquisition of Mordant Pharmaceuticals, and that she isn't supposed to discuss anything else."

"Oh, and how I would love nothing more than to talk drugs with Brenda, I just was given very strict orders from Mrs. Smoak, and thus I'm afraid I will be otherwise occupied that afternoon."

"Ha ha…" Felicity felt a tickle of amusement at the ludicrous thought.

Just trying to picture Oliver making small talk with her father, and being objectified by her mother and her friends…and, oh wow….could she just picture the look on Andrea's face when she saw Oliver.

"That's funny." Felicity waved her finger at him, "You're hilarious today Oliver. But seriously, since seventy percent of the reporters in Starling have decided that you're the Anti-Christ, it's really important that you don't infuriate the one who actually seems to like you."

And liked him too much to boot. Felicity would have been envious of the way Brenda looked at Oliver when they met had he seemed oblivious, if not annoyed with every word that came out of her mouth.

"You're trying to distract me by forgetting all the nice things you said about me, Felicity." Oliver told her, "Your mother…"

Oliver shook his head, a smile on his face.

"I like her."

"Oh, I'm sure she'll be thrilled. I'll be sure to tell her, and hope that it doesn't involve a terrifying psychoanalysis of Oliver Queen."

"Excuse me?" Oliver asked.

"Oh, my mother's a psychiatrist." Felicity said, "You didn't notice?"

"Wow…" Oliver shook his head once in a sort of confusion, "Well, that explains…so much about you. I've never known a psychiatrist before."

"Well, I guess that's your first problem." Felicity replied. "Don't let it all go to your head. I only said nice things so that my mother wouldn't think…"

"Think what?" Oliver questioned.

She wondered sometimes, how much he knew and ignored, or if he was just completely clueless. She could survive becoming the blonde bimbo stereotype—but not being a joke to Oliver. Felicity thought that the one thing that separated her, that made them friends, and brought some sort of balance to the awkward relationship that would exist otherwise is that he respected her.

"Think that Oliver Queen is everything that the papers insist he is." Felicity said to him, glancing away and pretending to focus on her tablet's screen. "I'll accept an extra dry cappuccino as thanks."

A smile twitched in the corner of Oliver's mouth.

"Speaking of thanks," Oliver said, "Felicity, don't think for a minute you're anywhere other than at the top of my list. You're my uh…"

"Girl Friday?" she supplied, trying not to let the platitude fluster her.

_God, he was really going to need to watch that movie if they were going to keep this up. Because she was really, really sure that he didn't know what happened at the end of that movie._

Oliver leaned across the desk, his eyes crinkled in thought as he watched her.

"You're my friend." He cupped his hand on her shoulder as he got up. "Thank you."

Well, of course she was. There might not be a lot that she knew for sure, but if she was going to stand in anyone's corner, it was Oliver's.


	7. Between the Lines

His Girl Friday

_Between the Lines_

. . .

Summary: It was stagnant where they stood now, and uncomfortable, and that was the worst. A tag to 2.06, and sort of an interlude update between now and next week.

Note: I wasn't even going to include this in the HGF series, until I thought about His Girl Friday (the movie, I mean), as well as some super polarizing views about where this story was going, and how it was being written (It's an Olicity story, so…there's that) and realized that the very epitome of HGF I about the nonpareil chemistry between a man and a woman who are just sort of the yin and yang for each other and just…need each other. It's not even about the romance or the sex…they just _get_ each other. Now, I'll concede to the fact that I don't write Isabel as the most sympathetic character—and I am sure that there are writers far more gifted than me who do—but, firstly, it's all in good fun. I am not really the most serious of writers. I am a college student, and for the love of God, I'm just trying to have a good time, please stop trying to take that away from me by flooding my inbox with complaints, and secondly—if you are reading this, and you are a comic book purist (which, I don't understand why you're reading Olicity then, but…whatever…) Isabel Rochev _is_ a villain. _FYI_. So…put that in your pipe and smoke it.

Now, I digress, and for all of you incredibly amazing people who are reading and reviewing—or just reading, because thank you too—my stories and _having a good time along with me, _I'm sorry for this long rant directed at some people who were anons and intent on digging in on an already annoying Thursday. I'm glad you're all enjoying, and as a thank you I'm writing this for all those of you who asked for something in the vein of this week's office scene—_because oh my god, like what?_ I haven't been that titillated by two characters since…I don't even know. It's four in the morning, and honestly, I probably don't even know my first name anymore.

. . .

"Okay. _Okay_, so here is the thing."

Felicity pushed the door to Oliver's office shut, and averted her eyes from his. She needed to focus, she'd spent all day preparing herself for this evening and if she didn't do this now, she would lose every ounce of nerve she'd mustered and they were going to be caught in this uncomfortable, stagnant place forever.

If she didn't do this now, they'd never be able to make it right between them again.

"I take it this is your subtle way of telling me that, 'keeping it in Russia' is dead?" Oliver asked, folding his hands over the desk as he looked up at her.

Felicity was inflamed; and as anxious and scared as this was making her—anger and hurt and _disappointment_ had all imploded inside of her and made it so she could barely sleep, never mind think straight—she had to get it out, or they were never going to be able to remain in the same room alone again.

It was eating her up, and she refused to believe that Oliver felt any better about it. He couldn't. They…this wasn't what their relationship was. They were comfortable with each other, and this had thrown a wrench into the entire operation while they tiptoed around each other and tried to pretend that neither one of them was upset with the other.

"Oliver, I'm saying it, and I'm only going to say it once." Felicity bit down on her lip hard, needing the distraction from her nerves as she addressed him. "I don't know what I'm doing, and I'm pretty sure that you don't…and that's okay—"

"Felicity," Oliver started to interject with a softened, injured sort of look on his face.

"No, Oliver, just…be still and listen to be for one minute. Your life, my life…our lives are completely out of order. Usually, I feel like there is hardly a moment to take a breath as we jump from one catastrophic scenario to the next."

"I—" Oliver began, before Felicity lifted her hand to stop him.

She really couldn't handle one more 'is-it-isn't-it?' apology, because that wasn't what she was looking for. She wasn't a slighted girlfriend, or an envious little sister, she wasn't even the crush that needed her feelings to be assuaged.

They were partners. At least, they were supposed to be.

"You have done some sort of backwards, awkward, completely out of place apology all week long. You haven't looked me in the eye since we came back from Russia—No, actually you haven't looked me in the eye since you walked out of that room, but that is hardly my point. This isn't about contrition or regret. I'm not the timid girl any more that gets rattled at the drop of a hat, I'm not the girl that I was a year ago, and my world does not stop spinning because you pick up the worst girlfriend since Helena Bertinelli."

"She's not my girlfriend." Oliver told her tersely, with a low groan before he rubbed his open hands over his face, like everything she was saying was incredible stressful to him. "Felicity, I don't understand what you _want_."

"Oliver, you're not grasping the point!" Felicity felt her voice inch up painfully higher as she lost her temper with him. "I'm not jealous, because that is not our relationship! We are equals, at least we're supposed to be. I don't sit outside of this office because I like answering the phone and scheduling appointments, I do it because I believe in you, and your destiny—because I believe that you're something special."

She felt her eyebrow's creasing deep together as she delved deeper into the ire she felt over this all being boiled down into something as shallow as a crush. Because, God help her, as much as he could literally make her feel like she was bashing her head against the wall, he made her believe in the power of one person making a change in the world.

He gave her that.

As long as he was silent, finally giving her a moment to say what she had to say instead of filling the silence with platitudes she didn't need, and apologies that she didn't want, Felicity barreled on.

"You didn't _hurt_ my feelings, and I'm not some fragile china doll in need of protection, Oliver. I'm upset because I know you—I'll tell you one thing, I know that you are not that guy that I saw coming out of that hotel room, and I'm angry because I know the guy that Oliver Queen is and he is not—he is not that guy. You are better than what I saw in Russia, and that's what's upsetting me Oliver."

Felicity was quiet for a moment, glancing toward him as she tacked it on, "You're better than her."

Now she waited. She'd gotten out everything she had wanted to say, and in fashion true to herself; then some.

"I'm not perfect." Oliver said slowly, clasping his hands in front of his mouth, like holding this very conversation with her required some sort of superhuman strength. "Felicity, I feel like you have this idealized version in your head of who I am."

"You're wrong." Felicity told him, "I've seen the best of you, Oliver. Time and time again, but I know your weaknesses too. You're stubborn, and it's impossible for you to admit when you're wrong, and you are scared of making the wrong decision and hurting someone again—and sometimes, you can be so incredibly obtuse to what is in front of you. And in the long run, you don't hurt anyone more than you do yourself."

"I…" Oliver's voice trailed off as he seemed to lose the thought in the rush of her words.

"You don't have to say anything." Felicity told him, "It's late at night, and it's going to be an early morning. I'm going to extract myself from the office for twenty, thirty minutes maybe and get coffee. The real kind, not the leftover dregs from the café. The quality assurance documents have to be signed for legal by morning and I'm tracking the leads that Roy supplied you with the rise of the new drug in the Glades."

"Are you coming back?" Oliver asked her, with a careful sort of reserved tone in his voice.

Felicity felt the smile at the corners of her mouth, and bit down on her lip, as she tried to hide it.

"I'll be back." She said, turning on her heel, and shaking her head slightly. "I'm still your girl, as long as you have me."

She cringed slightly, thinking that maybe it was a bit much considering everything that had just passed between them.

"Stop." Oliver said, as she pulled the door open. "Felicity."

With a sigh, Felicity realized that it might not, perhaps be as easy as she had deigned to make it when she decided to storm the castle and attempt to clear the air. Oliver pushed the door shut, and her hands fell to her side, as she waited for the response he had for all her…_words_. Maybe she should have stopped at Bertinelli.

"I just want to leave it all in the past, Oliver. I want it back. All of it. I want the witty quarrels during the day, and the nightly challenge of doing what we do, and I want you to—"

"Felicity." Oliver stressed, not giving her the opportunity to tell him what she wanted. "I'm not spending another minute on this—because I cannot degrade this relationship that we have with any more of this. Because I know that you're better than being envious of a woman who relies on manipulation for strength. And I would never call you my equal."

Felicity bristled. For a moment, she had been flattered, lost in the platitudes that she had sworn wouldn't faze her, and the air of…Oliver being Oliver. And then this.

"Because, and I mean this in the most sincere way—you're better than me." He told her, pulling the door open, and gesturing for her to go on her way. "You're not the only one with something to believe in, Felicity."

"And the last week," she said, hardly registering the compliment in her mind until after the moment had passed. "It can go away? Like, it would be great if we could just wipe it away and move on."

"It's wiped." Oliver told her, then smiled hesitantly.

"I know that look." Felicity grinned, and then shook her head. "I'll bring you one back…but just this one time. We can't be doing this all the time."

"Thank you." Oliver told her.

Felicity stopped for a moment outside the door, before smiling to herself. This life that they lived was never easy. And truth be told, she wasn't sure that she'd ever be able to put into words what she was next to him, but he was the man that had somehow set an unassailable standard in her life. Having him as her partner set her ahead of the curve.

And what they had, it worked for her.


End file.
